"Are you alright, Charlie?" He asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Aah!" He whined.

"What?"

"That's my broken arm."

"Sorry. Hey, I heard your pants were burned with fire," Timothy said, stifling a laugh.

"Yeah. It was a Chimera. It blew fire on the back of my pants while I was trying staggering forward. Wow, my pants have a large hole there. I should get a new one now. A narrow escape, it was."

"Is Edwin okay, now?" Emile inquired, glancing around the hall of the Health care and Casualty department of the Healers.

"I don't know. He's thin as a stick already, think of the condition he would have if a lot of blood is drained from his body. The nurse who takes care of him told me that he will be okay. Why don't we see him?" Charlie suggested, pulling himself from the bed.

The boys walked toward the end of the hall to find two nurses sitting at the end of a bed with Edwin sleeping.

"Can we talk to him?" Ermand asked one of the nurses, slanting on the table near her.

"Yes..." She replied while she dozed.

"Edwin," Ermand called, gently tapping on his hands. Charlie sat near the foot of the bed while Emile placed the back of his hand on Edwin's forehead.

"He's still hot," he said to the dozing nurse.

"Edwin, can you hear us?" Ermand tapped on his arms again.

Slowly, Edwin opened his eyes and glanced at his friends who were gazing at him with worry filled in their faces. Edwin tried lifting his hand but felt too weak to do so.

"It's alright. We just wanted to know if you're okay. Are you?" Charlie asked.

"Not... completely... but... I'm... better than... before."

"We're glad to hear that. Once you're discharged from here, we'll take care of you. Man, you look like a corpse except that you're not dead," Timothy said, shaking his head in disbelief of how Edwin looked.

"I've... completed... my DCT, right?"

"Yes, you did. Professor Derek Chestnut just notified me that you're allowed to take a week's leave from the classes."

"Cool."

Emile turned to Charlie, frowning.

"I mean, not cool," Charlie gulped, staring at Emile.

"What about Charlie. He's injured too," Timothy told.

"Not that he can't walk to the class," Emile replied.

"Ouch! I think my ankle hurts. You know, I stumbled on a stone and sprained my ankle badly," Charlie interrupted.

"Don't talk nonsense, Charlie. I saw that you were perfectly fine when you were walking with us to Edwin's bed. I'll be amused if you're not going back to the dorm the same way," Emile stated, giving him a grave look.

Charlie grumbled something and bid his friend goodbye before leaving the room with his friends.

"You know, it's been two days since Odin has come to college," Timothy said, unbuttoning his shirt.

"We don't know where he lives or else we should've visited him by now. Thinking of visiting, I think I should go somewhere. It's almost four months now since I left Goffy's Goblet café. Is it true that first years can't work?" Ermand asked, digging out an old and worn out gray T-shirt from the chest.

"No idea, bro," Charlie shrugged.

"What do you have to do there?" Timothy asked, grabbing the towel he placed on his bed.

"I work there."

"Work? Oh my. You work?" Timothy asked, pausing to walk toward the bathroom.

"We all work," Charlie commented, shrugging again.

"How? I mean, why do you guys need to work?"

"To live, of course!" Charlie chortled, shaking his head in disbelief of Timothy's question.

"Oh..." Timothy mumbled. He stole a glance at Ermand's dress. "We're young. I thought every boy of my age would be dreaming of their fascinating future."

"Only boys belonging to high clans and upper middle clan would be aspiring for their future. Others are all busy doing labour somewhere. I started this when I was eight," Ermand explained, grabbing his jeans.

"Now I understand what daddy told me when I spent all of my pocket money during the weekend. He told me that I don't know how lucky I was born," Timothy mumbled, his head dropped of guilt.

"Your father is truly a great man. At least, there are people who understand our grievance," Charlie chuckled in a monotonous way.

"I should be going now. I don't know what Goffy will lash at me this time."

"He lashes you?" The towel in Timothy's hand dropped to the floor.

"Not literally. He's a grumpy man with an unpredictable temper. A complete moody guy."

"What is his clan?"

"Rauffin. Goffinald Rauffin is his name."

"Can I go with you?"

"Why?"

"I want to see how things really are. I've grown up in a world where I thought the world is so peaceful and relaxing that life can't be more exciting than anything."

"We grew up in a world where we're taught to stand where we are, cursing under our breath," Emile muttered, who was sitting in his chair with one of his hands resting on a page blotted with ink all over. "I hate the clanship system. But if you scream it out loud, the government will probably pull a decree to behead us for treason."

"Think about what Edwin and Odin must've faced," Charlie muttered, glaring out of the window.

"I hated the first clan studies class. The Professor must have been greeted by tons of profanity if our world was six hundred years back, back when everything was alright," Emile sighed, leaning back on his chair.

Timothy stood where he was, speechless. He remembered how lavish he was all that time. He caught the attention of all the students in his school for Chestnuts because Timothy came first or he competed to come first among the rich students in spending a lot of money over trivial reasons. It was all competition and entertainment for him while the other boys of his age belonging to lower clans were doing hard labour to push their life everyday. For the first time in his life, his vision was blinded by tear droplets from this realization. It was then he realized how unreasonable he was in the past.

"Timothy Chestnut seems to be overwhelmed with emotions," Charlie laughed, getting up from his bed.

"No... I-I'll be back after a quick bath. Wait for me Ermand, I'll be in a jiffy," he said, turning his head away from them so that they wouldn't see him.

When both the boys were ready, they headed outside the huge welcoming gates of Agledon.

"Where's this Goffy's café?" Timothy asked, turning left and right.

"In downtown Candlewick."

"That's a bit far from here."

"We'll take a Locoshifter. There it is," Ermand replied, pointing at the Locoshifter station opposite to them.

"A Locoshifter?" Timothy asked, he seemed amused.

"You've never been in a Locoshifter before?"

Timothy shrugged, searching for something in his pocket and produced a currency note.

"You only have Twoks with you, right?"

"Uh...," he searched again in his pocket for coins. "I might have two Pecuns."

"I'll pay for you," Ermand said, shaking his head.

"Wait, I can pay for myself--"

"I'll never be surprised if you don't know how the currency works in here," Ermand chortled, crossing toward the Locoshifter station.

"Of course I know. One Erat coin is the basic unit. Ten Erats make one Pecun coin, hundred Erats make one Twok note. Ten Pecuns make one Twok. I know it all."

"Wonderful. Do you have eighty Erats with you now?"

"No."

"Spectacular. I'll pay."

"You're smarter than I thought, mate," Timothy guffawed, slapping on Ermand's back.

"You're hopeless than I wished," Ermand replied, stifling a laugh.

"Was that supposed to please me or displease me?"

"Take it the way you want," Ermand replied, stepping into the Locoshifter.

Locoshifters are known for its cheap payment to get in and around Tawarn and for Timothy Chestnut, it was a new experience.